


My Heart, My Love, My Husband?

by fisherford40



Category: Star Wars RPF
Genre: F/M, RPF, carrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fisherford40/pseuds/fisherford40
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie takes a moment to reflect on the answers she gave during the Star Wars Celebration Europe panel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart, My Love, My Husband?

Carrie walked off stage and promptly put her hand to her head, the sound of the crowd cheering fading away as she became lost in her own thoughts. Her assistant approached and handed her her purse, trying to tell her where they were supposed to go next, but Carrie waved her off, stammering something about needing a minute. She spotted a closet and made a beeline for it, Gary hot on her heels. She yanked open the door and rushed inside, closing it behind her dog. She leaned against the wall and sank down it slowly, her purse slipping off her shoulder to the floor.

Gary began to lick her hand and she petted him absentmindedly. _Shit shit shit_ , she thought, _he’s gonna kill me._ She replayed her words over again in her head. “I haven’t seen as much of Harrison as our marriage would indicate.” What kind of shit was that? Then she’d gone and called him her husband a few minutes later. Not to mention she’d later said that treating Harrison badly was her favorite thing, only to have to correct herself on the stage. “Fuck,” she ground out, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall. If she’d been in a better mood she might have laughed at her choice of word, considering that’s basically what could be inferred from what she'd said about fifteen minutes ago.

Why had she opened her mouth? Why couldn’t she keep herself from saying stuff like this when anyone brought him up? She knew it made him upset and she tried, really tried, every time not to say anything that she hadn’t already said before about him. And really, she hadn’t, right? She’d already been calling herself Mrs. Han Solo for years. That was what she’d been referencing, right? That Han was her husband. And she’d already said before that scenes where she got to yell at Harrison were her favorite, right? But she’d never said it quite so suggestively, never corrected herself so blatantly. And she’d claimed Harrison as her husband, not Han, and not just once, but twice.

Carrie groaned and hung her head, rubbing a temple with the hand that wasn't petting Gary. She just hadn't been able to stop herself. The filter had disappeared for a moment and the words had come out. When she thought about it, she knew exactly why, and it made her heart ache. She pulled her left hand down from her head and took her hand back from Gary as he settled against her leg, resting her hands in her lap. She stared straight ahead, but she wasn't looking at anything in the small closet. Her mind was far too preoccupied with thoughts she’d rather forget.

He’d turned seventy-four this month and apparently she was still feeling that, with the way she'd spoken today. It was something she didn't like to think about, their age difference. Fourteen years. But it was something that, in her quiet moments alone without him, crept up on her from the back of her mind. Rationally, he was in near perfect health. Still so strong and vibrant, and for that she was immeasurably grateful. She knew he likely still had many years. But there was always that voice, screaming at her from the back of her mind. She would lose him someday. Her heart clenched at the thought and she squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath to push her panic back down where she kept it hidden.

She'd almost lost him twice in the past two years and she still wasn't over it. She'd been so afraid, so beside herself when he’d broken his leg on set, almost being crushed by the hydraulic door. Then he’d crashed his plane nine months later and she'd cursed him for doing such a dangerous activity, immediately hating herself for lashing out over one of his passions. It was just that the thought of living without him absolutely terrified her. When she opened her eyes, a few tears slipped out and she wiped at her cheeks hastily with her left hand.

The sparkling of her rings caught her attention and she dropped her hand back to her lap, staring at the jewelry. The band of diamonds had been a gift from him and she'd started wearing it more often, even sometimes allowing herself to wear it on her left hand. She twisted the band nervously with the fingers of her other hand, faintly noting that her hand was shaking. She removed it from her finger and held it up, staring at it intently. Her heart clenched again. How she wished it was a wedding band, that he was really her husband. For all intents and purposes he was. They had their agreement, it worked for them, but she would always want it all. 

That was why she'd said it. Why she’d called their relationship a marriage, why she’d called him her husband. Because she wanted it to be true. Wanted to be able to say it with one hundred percent truthfulness before she didn't have the opportunity to anymore. She wanted to be his wife, for real, and it had been eating at her for forty years.

She sighed, shoving the ring back on her finger, and willed her hands to stop shaking. She placed one on Gary’s back, seeking his comfort for a moment. She took a few cleansing breaths and calmed herself, reminding herself that he loved her, that he would always love her, even if they couldn't be together in the way they both wanted.

Carrie pulled her purse back up onto her shoulder and stood, wiping at her cheeks one last time as she set her shoulders and held her chin high. She knew that if he asked why she’d said it, if he pretended to be upset with her over it, that she'd only have to tell him why and he’d soften, understanding everything.

She left the closet and found her assistant looking worried on the other side of the door. “I'm okay,” she reassured, telling herself in the process. And she was okay. He was healthy and, though he wasn't hers according to the law, she knew she was his and he was hers in every way that mattered to them. “He's my husband,” she whispered, so low that only she could hear. “And I wanted the world to know.” 


End file.
